‘No,’ she replied, still not realizing the magnitude of her peril. ‘If you want to speak to us, wait till my brother comes.’
‘O, he’s not at home? Cytherea, I can’t live without you! All my sin has been because I love you so! Will you fly with me? I have money enough for us both—only come with me.’
‘Not now—not now.’
‘I am your husband, I tell you, and I must come in.’
‘You cannot,’ she said faintly. His words began to terrify her.
‘I will, I say!’ he exclaimed. ‘Will you let me in, I ask once more?’
‘No—I will not,’ said Cytherea.
‘Then I will let myself in!’ he answered resolutely. ‘I will, if I die for it!’
The windows were glazed in lattice panes of leadwork, hung in casements. He broke one of the panes with a stone, thrust his hand through the hole, unfastened the latch which held the casement close, and began opening the window.
Instantly the shutters flew together with a slam, and were barred with desperate quickness by Cytherea on the inside.